Ghosts of our Past
by Navar Darkblade
Summary: Ben Gates' 16 year old daughter, Eleanor, recalls the event that changed her love from art to history! R&R please.


A/N: My sister who wishes to have the alias of Phoenix challenged me with a story idea, and this is how it turned out. For now it's only going to be one chapter, but depending on how well it's received, I may continue on evolving it into a story. For now the prompt/summary is as follows:

Ben Gates' sixteen-year old recalls the event that changed her view on life from being an artist to sharing her mother and father's career.

Disclaimer: I don't own National Treasure.

Ghosts of our Past

Have you ever been in the Washington D.C. war memorials and monuments in the dead of night? No, I suppose you haven't because you probably don't have the connections that I have. Sorry, I didn't mean to sound snobbish, I have an annoying habit of stating very blunt facts. Let me start over: my name is Eleanor Roosevelt Gates. Great name, huh? You can probably see why I go by Rose. My father happens to be the most admired man among archaeologists and historians: Benjamin Franklin Gates (it's amazing how easily everyone's perspective of you changes when you find a massive treasure). It's a really weird tradition to name your kids after famous historical figures, dont'cha think? It happens to be a tradition I plan to stop, or rather, _had planned _to stop, until I had my own little adventure.

A few years back, when I was about twelve, I wasn't interested in the family business of treasure-hunting. I was an artist. From pastels to watercolors, and pictures to poetry, art was my passion (borderline obsession). Though I didn't like historical stuff very much, the simplicity and beauty of the nation's memorials and monuments captivated me. The tourists, however, I could have done without. It was a simple matter of asking my dad, who made a couple of phone calls, to set me up with my privacy in the area. I was thrilled by the opportunity, even though the sole condition, while completely understandable, sucked. I had to have a chaperone, as I'd be there well after hours, and technically past curfew.

Upon arriving on my first evening in the inspirational environment I was thrilled because my chaperone wasn't a talker. He was an older gentleman, and he wore a security guard's outfit. I was able to sketch the Washington Monument in peace… at three AM, but considering the fact that I was home-schooled until high school, that didn't matter much. When I decided that I was finished, I turned to inform my chaperone. He was asleep, why was I not surprised? I suppose the early hour had something to do with it. I was about to wake him when I noticed a pale glow coming from behind the trees in the distance. It was enchanting. I decided to move toward it, leaving my chaperone to his dreams in his fold-out chair. As I drew nearer to the glow, I noticed it was _moving_. Though it hovered at a very slow pace, its direction was clear: it was headed to the capitol building. You'll have to pardon my lack of knowledge about history and the proper names of some of the things in D.C., I mean, it wasn't until after the event that I began studying history, and I want to walk you through my exact thoughts as best I can. Anyways, just when I was getting close enough to see an outline of a human body, the glow disappeared and a hand clenched my shoulder. I gasped and turned around to see my chaperone.

"I think it's time you were headin' home, Ms. Gates," he croaked in a western accent.

"Right." I said, slightly embarrassed. "I'm sorry about wandering off, sir, something caught my eye."

"What, exactly?"

"Exactly? I don't know, it was some sort of a strange glow. Before it disappeared it looked like a person."

The man's eyes suddenly became wide, but he immediately regained his composure so that I barely noticed.

"It seems to me as though the hour is gettin' to you as well darlin'. Go on home and get some sleep."

"Yes sir," I said as I began to leave. My dad was waiting for me out front.

"Hey Rose! Did you get a good picture drawn?" he asked.

"Sure did!" I said, completely forgetting about the glow as I showed him my sketch.

"This is great!"

"Tomorrow, I'm going to add color."

"I can't wait to see the finished product. Now, when we get home, your mom says you need to go straight to bed, school's at noon."

"Okay, Dad."

The glow had been wiped from my mind for the entire day as I did my school work with my parents and Mr. Riley. In fact, it wasn't until that evening upon arriving at the drop-off point that I recalled anything peculiar at all. That, however, was pushed to the back of my mind as I focused on the current peculiar of the change of my chaperone. This gentleman had bright eyes, a strong build, and a face that reflected years and years of wisdom… though he only looked to be about twenty-five. In fact, the only thing even remotely unattractive about this man was that he was _extremely _pale, which I didn't mind much considering all of the complications and consequences of tanning… stupid cancer.

"Hello, sir!" I said, offering my hand for a shake. He took it. His grasp was like ice! "Wow! Your hands are cold!" See?! I told you I have a bad habit!

"Yes, Ms. Gates I'm well aware," he said in a very masculine yet faint British accent. Man, what is it with my chaperones and accents? "My name is George. I'll be keeping an eye on you this evening."

"Alright, Mr. George!"

"No, just George, please. Formalities aren't necessary at this ghastly hour. Having mentioned that, what do you go by? Eleanor?"

"NO!" I declared with a shudder. "I hate that name! Call me Rose."

"Very well, Rose. Tonight, I'd rather avoid the Washington Monument, if that's alright with you. It's my least favorite."

"Okay… I guess," I said. I had really wanted to add color to my sketch, but there were other things worth seeing. "Where should we go then?"

"How about the National Archives? Art can be presented in words as well, you know."

"Okay." I knew where he was coming from, having written plenty of poetry.

When we were inside, he took me to the location of the document that I recognized as the one my father had stolen.

"The Declaration of Independence." George said with a dreamy air.

"You know, there's a code on the back of it," I informed him.

"I know." Now _that _startled me. I thought the FBI had kept that little detail under wraps. You can probably understand why my jaw dropped when he said: "I've seen it."

"You've _what_?" I asked, shocked.

"Oh yes. Quite the mind Benjamin had. I understand why your father was named after him. But, forget about the back, have you ever read the front?"

Actually, I hadn't. American History class didn't start for another year. He must have interpreted my silence correctly.

"Why don't you read it out loud? You have no problems reading, correct?" I shook my head, no. "Alright then, proceed." I complied.

"_When in the course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume, among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the laws of nature and of nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to separation._"I took a deep breath and continued. It was beautiful. The wording weaved a painting of pride and honor. A sense of patriotism I had never truly felt before bubbled inside as I read the final passage. "_We, therefore, the Representatives of the United States of America, in General Congress assembled, appealing to the supreme judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the name and by the authority of the good people of these colonies, solemnly publish and declare, that these United Colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent states; that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British crown, and that all political connection between them and the state of Great Britain is, and ought to be, totally dissolved; and that as free and independent states, they have full power to alliances, establish commerce, and to do all other acts and things which independent states may of right do. And, for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor. _Wow. That was amazing," I breathed as I turned to see George. His eyes had welled up in tears of what I assumed was pride. "Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. I love Tom's work. He was such a talented writer. As a matter of fact, my only regret during the Revolution was that I couldn't be there to be a part of it. To _sign _it."

"Well, duh! That was over two hundred years ago, nearly two hundred and fifty!"

"That's not a limitation I had to worry about," he said calmly, "mine was different."

"What do you mean?"

"I wasn't there. I was busy leading the army."

"Army?"

"Yes ma'am. The colonial army." Okay, at this point I almost said that he belonged in a nut-house, but there was a kind of nature about him that made me trust what he was saying.

"So, that means you're a… no way!"

"Yes, I'm a ghost. In fact, I believe you were following me yesterday morning."

"So why did you become my chaperone tonight?"

"You were about to cause you family's tradition of a love for history to end. I had to do what I could to save that tradition."

"Why?"

"Because as long as someone remembers history; the mistakes of the past are less likely to be repeated. I figured that by relating history to your passion, I could keep it in your family."

"Oh."

"I must go now. The other world is calling, and the caller is not a very patient man,' he said as he turned to leave.

"Okay! Thanks George!"

He gave a nod and walked away, fading into the distance.

When I got to my dad's car, I was still wondering who George had been. My first thought was George Washington, but he's a historical legend and odds were that he would have signed the Declaration of Independence. Besides, what kind of guy thinks of his own monument as his least favorite?

"Hey Dad?" I asked.

"Yeah,

"Who was the leader of the colonial army when the Declaration of Independence was signed?"

"George Washington."

"Didn't he sign it?"

"No. A lot of people think so, but it's a common misconception. Why do you ask?"

"Because I think I talked to him just now."

"Okay, if you're going to keep doing this you need to take a nap before you come," he said with a chuckle.

And that was the end of my adventure, if you want to call it that. I am now sixteen years old and have passed high school because I was so far ahead of the other kids. I attend NYU, studying Art History as my major. My chosen occupation is, you guessed it, treasure hunting. I work with my parents… and Mr. Riley of course… to find beautiful works of art from past civilizations.

The End

A/N: Yay I finished! So, this has shut the door, so that it can stand alone. However, the door is still unlocked so whether I continue developing a story for it is entirely up to you! Please review and tell me what you think!


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